Tell Me Why
by tipthecabbie2.0
Summary: Post-His Last Vow. (AU where John does the right thing and dumps Mary's ass-Not because i don't liker her, mind, I friggin' love her- but because SHE FCUKING SHOT SHERLOCK). Sherlock finds that he can't concentrate on anything because he can't help but think of John every time anything happens.


_**Tell Me Why, Chapter 1**_

John Watson woke up early in a cold bed for the first time in months. _Where's Mary? _He wondered idly before opening his eyes and finding himself in his old bedroom at Baker street. _Why am I here…? _

'Oh, God,' he whispered aloud as he remembered the events of the previous night. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips, willing it to go away; there was no possible way that this could be true. Mary was no killer: Sherlock must have been confused. He must have seen wrong.

'Who am I kidding, the only time Sherlock's wrong about anything is when he's drugged against his will.' He got up reluctantly, pulling on a dressing gown and descending the stairs to make his morning tea.

'Good morning, John,' came Sherlock's voice from the living room, just as John was pouring the tea into his mug.

'_CHRIST_, Sherlock!' he yelped, accidentally spilling hot tea all over his arm. He went to the sink to put cool water over the burn, cursing under his breath.

'Shouldn't you still be in hospital or something? You _have_ just been shot, you know.'

'But _John, _how am I supposed to work at the hospital? You're a doctor, you can make sure I don't die from here.' John sighed, exasperated with his friend, as he sat in his chair with his tea, bringing some for Sherlock as well. Sherlock was curled up in his chair, clearly in pain but showing a valiant effort to mask it.

'Sherlock, I don't have the equipment here to keep you from bleeding out, let alone any painkillers strong enough to make any difference. I'm going to take you back to the hospital, okay? They'll get you some morphine, and keep you monitored, and if you're bored, just text me, and I'll bring over some cases. Does that sound alright?'

'No,' Sherlock answered, crinkling his nose, 'But if you don't want me here…'

'No, Sherlock, you've got me wrong. Of course I want you here, but more than that I want you not to die. Again. The first time was bad enough, and you weren't even really dead.'

'Sorry again about that…' Sherlock trailed off, falling asleep mid-thought. John sighed and shook his head before calling Mycroft.

'_What could it possibly be at this hour, John?' _Mycroft yawned as he answered on the second ring.

'Sherlock's here, and he's refusing to go to hospital.'

'_Let me talk to him.'_

'He's asleep, d'you want me to wake him up?'

'_Yes, I think it might be necessary.' _John kneeled by Sherlock's chair and very gently shook his arm.

'Sherlock, wake up for a minute please? Mycroft wants to talk to you.' Sherlock rubbed his eyes (looking rather like a grouchy toddler) and took the phone from John.

'What is it, Mycroft?'

'_Go back to the hospital, Sherlock, you're not doing anything apart from making this harder on John, and with everything you're feeling for him right now, I really wouldn't advise that.' _Sherlock looked at John before trying to stand, immediately regretting it as he collapsed onto him.

'Ah! Sherlock, are you alright?' John asked as he propped his friend back up onto his chair.

'Yes, I'm fine, John. Could you please give me a moment? I have to talk to Mycroft.' John nodded and went back upstairs to get properly dressed.

'Mycroft, what would you have me do? If I leave, John might think it's not as bad as it is and forgive Mary, and I can't let that happen. What if it's not me next time? What if it's John? Or worse, their child? I would never forgive myself if that happened. If I'm here, I can monitor John and make sure he's coping okay, as well as making sure he's not being irrational and thinking it's okay that _his wife __shot__ me!_''

'_You can't control him, Sherlock, you have to let him make his own choices. If he does end up with Mary, he can deal with his own problems. You're being illogical, letting your emotions reign free. If you were in John's place, if he had shot your best friend, what would you do?'_

'John _is _my best friend, and I'd kill anyone who laid a finger on John. Mary included. She may think that she loves him, but she's being incredibly selfish- if she had just told him about herself, this entire thing could have been avoided. But, instead, she chose to try and keep him close by lying. That's textbook, Mycroft. This will only get worse if he goes back. What would you do if Lestrade's wife had shot you? You'd try to get him as far away from her as possible. You know that.'

'_Don't you dare bring Greg into this, Sherlock.'_

'Shut up, Mycroft. Can you send the necessary medical supplies over to Baker street?' Sherlock asked, wincing. The morphine was wearing off fast.

'_On their way. Don't expect me to do this for you often, brother dear.' _Just then, John came downstairs, carrying a towel.

'I'm going to have a shower now, kay?' Sherlock nodded in response.

'_Don't let your heart run away with your head, Sherlock.' _A click on the other end of the line, and Mycroft was gone.

Sherlock rummaged around on the floor, eventually finding his package of nicotine patches, applying four and turning over onto his back, waiting for John to come out of the shower.

'Sherlock.'

'Yes, John?'

'How many patches is that?'

'Four. It's a four-patch problem, John.'

'What is, is it Mary?'

'No, _you._ Mary had enough reason to shoot me; She was justified.'

'Sorry, _what _about me is a four-patch problem?'

_Shit._

'It's nothing, John, don't worry about it. Just… things. Nothing you need to think about, okay?'

'…okay.'

oOo

Within the week, however, John couldn't ignore the way Sherlock was acting around him. So he asked.

'Sherlock.'

'…Yes, John?'

'What's going on? I know you told me not to think about it, but I can't help but notice how weird you've been acting. Is everything alright?'

'I'm fine, John, really, I've just got a lot on my mind, and none of it's logical. That's all it is.'

'Do you want to talk to me about it? That's what friends are for, right?'

'Thank you, John, but I think I'm alright.'

'Alright, well, if you won't talk to me, at least talk to Molly, she'll want to help. Though I really wish you'd tell me instead of sulking. Here's my phone, call Molly. I've got to go get milk, I'll be back in a few.'

'I've got my own phone, you know, John. Take yours with you in case I need to get a hold of you.'

'Alright.'

Molly answered on the first ring.

'_Sherlock? What is it?' _Sherlock debated whether or not to tell her the whole truth, but eventually decided to.

'Molly, how do you talk to boys?'

'_What? Who, me specifically, or in general? What kind of boy?'_

'Not you, specifically, this isn't for a study, though that might be an interesting one. No, I mean, I need advice.' He swung around on his chair so that his head was dangling off the seat and his legs were resting on the back, wincing and increasing his morphine drip a bit.

'_Ooh! Who's the lucky boy, Sherlock? Is it John? Or, maybe it's somebody I don't know?'_

'It… it may or may not be a certain ex-army doctor…'

'_Oh, my goodness! That's great, Sherlock!'_

'Not really, I can't think properly about anything, Molly, it's rotting my mind!'

'_Okay, well then, just tell him.'_

'But what if he doesn't feel the same? What if he leaves me alone, Molly? I can't be alone, not again.'

'_Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock, John won't leave you, he loves you. It might be platonic on his end, but I think there's the potential that it could end up as romantic love if you give him time. Just tell him, keep it simple, or he might get a bit weirded out. Everything will be okay.' _Sherlock bit his lip.

'Promise?'

'_Sherlock, have you ever done this before?'_

'Nope.'

'_Oh…'_

'Well, I mean, I asked Jeanine, but I didn't actually love her, I just needed to get into her boss' office. This is entirely different.'

'_Yeah, it is… well, have you thought about how you might tell him? Verbally, face-to-face tends to work best; don't call him or text him, and avoid notes if you can work up the courage.' _

'Are you sure, Molly? I don't want to alarm him…'

'_Sherlock. You said you couldn't think, right? Does your stomach twist in knots when you think about him? When you look at him, do you get inexplicably happy?'_

'Yes, yes, and yes.'

'_Then you need to tell him. Don't be like me, Sherlock. I wasted far too much of my time on a lost cause, and I couldn't move on for much too long. Whether or not he feels the same, it's not healthy to keep yourself in this stage for too long. And it'll be better for you to know how he feels. Trust me on this, Sherlock, okay?'_

'Okay, Molly. I'm sorry about that, by the way.'

'_That's okay, Sherlock. Entirely not your fault.'_ The line beeped, so Sherlock checked the screen.

'Molly, I'm sorry, but I have to go. John's calling. Thank you so much.'

'_Anytime, Sherlock.' _

'John? What is it?'

'_We 'ad to tie 'im up, 'e's bein' right nasty about it…Yea, 'course we drugged 'im, it's not working!' _That was definitely _not _John.

'John, keep the line open for as long as you can, I'm calling Lestrade so he can track the call. Please be safe, John, be okay!' Sherlock put John on hold quickly and called the Yard .

'_Sherlock, what is it?'_

'Donovan, put Lestrade on, I need to talk to him. Quickly, please!'

'_Yeah, alright, two seconds.'_

'

_Sherlock? What is it?'_

'Lestrade, John's been kidnapped, I need you to track his phone. Quickly, they've drugged and gagged him, from the sounds of it-!'

'_Alright, don't panic, Sherlock, we'll get him. You stay put, or I can't guarantee that John won't punch you in the face when he gets back.' _Lestrade hung up, the click echoing. Sherlock got up, pressed 'talk to take John off of hold, disconnected himself from the morphine, and began to pace around the flat.

'John, please, I need you to be okay, please. Lestrade's on his way, but I can't leave, I'm so, so sorry, John, please forgive me, but I promise we'll get you out of there alive. I love you, John, we'll get you back, I promise,'

'_Oi, what's this? The little bastard's got his phone on!' _There was a crunch, and the line died. Sherlock curled up on John's chair, knowing he was bleeding and that the morphine would wear off quickly, but not, at the moment, caring

oOo

Several hours and what seemed like a million cups of Mrs. Hudson-enforced tea later, Lestrade phoned.

'Lestrade, have you found him?'

'_Yeah, we found him. But he was really badly injured. He was unconscious when we got to him, so we've taken him to Bart's, they want to keep him for observations at least overnight. Speaking of which, I asked to see you there, and I got told that you checked out last week. You can't just expect John to take care of you, Sherlock. I'm coming to get you, and I'm taking you over there. Alright?' _

'Fine.' Sherlock hung up.

'Is he alright?' Mrs. Hudson asked, concern spread across her face.

'He's in hospital, apparently he was pretty badly injured. I _hate _this, I _hate _being so _useless! _If I could have gone to get him I could have had him back _before_ he was hurt!'

'Alright, well, don't get so worked up about it, love, I'm sure he'll be fine. He's tough. He'll be right as rain soon enough, you'll see.'

oOo

Six days later, both Sherlock and John were officially discharged from Bart's, and Sherlock was restless as they sat, John drinking some tea and reading the paper, Sherlock composing. _Should I? _He wondered, before setting down his violin and sitting across from John, his fingers steepled under his nose.

'John.'

'Yes, Sherlock?'

'I need to talk to you.'

'What about?'

'I think… John, I think I'm in… love.' He wrinkled his face as he spat out the last word.

'That's great, Sherlock, who is she?'

'…'

'What, are you embarrassed? Oh, god, it's not Mary, is it?'

'Nope, not Mary.'

'Is it the Woman?'

'No.'

'Molly?'

'Oh, for heaven's sake, John, it's not a woman!'

'…Oh. …Lestrade?'

'Well, considering the fact that he's having an affair with my brother, I think we'd all find that awkward.'

'Is he really? Good on them. Alright, I give up, who is it?'

'…'

'Sherlock.'

'…'

'Do I know him?'

'I certainly hope so, John.'

'Oh, God, is it Anderson?'

'God, no.'

'Magnussen?'

'Oh, for God's sake, John, it's _you!'_

'…Oh.' John set down his tea, the newspaper having been abandoned about halfway through the conversation.

'John, you have to understand, I'm not expecting you to reciprocate- and I really don't want to pressure you to- it's just that I needed to tell you so I could think properly. Of course, now you'll probably just leave me alone again and go back to Mary and have a normal life- or as normal as a family with two soldiers of sorts as the parents can have. I'm sorry, John, I really didn't mean for this to happen-'

'Shut up. Now.' Sherlock's jaw snapped shut, his eyes closed in shame, and he began to tremble.

So, he was quite surprised when John reached forward and cupped his jaw between his hands.

'I waited. For _two years_. To hear that. And then, I thought you were _dead. _And the entire time, I blamed myself. I thought that it was my fault you had jumped, I thought that if I had just been a few minutes earlier, I could have stopped it from happening- Sherlock, I was so scared. I was so scared that you didn't love me. More than that, I was scared that you didn't even like me, that maybe I was just a convenient person. So don't you dare think that I won't stay, Sherlock Holmes. Don't you _dare.'_ By the end of his little speech, John was holding Sherlock close, barely whispering the words in his ear.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, so intensely glad that he was staying that he found himself grinning and pressing kisses to John's hair.

'That doesn't mean, though, Sherlock, that I'm ready for a relationship with you. I'm still married to Mary, and she's pregnant. I might not be with her anymore, but I do need to be a father. You get that, right?'

'Of course.'

'That being said, there's nothing that says that a child can't have two dads and a mum, right? If you would-' Sherlock wrapped his arms tighter around John, and whispered,

'Oh, my God, yes, John, I- I love you.'


End file.
